


Blue Balls

by LazyBaker



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Hannibal is thirsty, Heterosexual Sex, Infidelity, Jealous Will, M/M, Manipulative Will, Orgasm Denial, Pining, cock tease Will, men in lingerie, season two
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-04 18:58:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10286639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/pseuds/LazyBaker
Summary: Will gets his reckoning by getting Hannibal hard.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> An AU I have been wanting to write for forever and was put into motion after a message from [crossroadscastiel](http://crossroadscastiel.tumblr.com)
> 
> Possibly more chapters at some point.

Months locked up in the BSHCI had sharpened Will Graham. Hannibal likened him to a self made knife, forged against the stone walls of his cell with the heat of his anger. 

For who, or really, how he was planning to use that sharp edge, Hannibal was more than a little curious to know. And that curiosity was curious itself as it mingled warmly with his relief at Will once again in his chair. Solid and real in front of Hannibal. His hair trimmed and combed. His old clothes pressed. Shoes shined.

A neater and actively lethal Will.

The session was over too quickly for Hannibal’s liking. He watched from behind his desk as Will pulled on his jacket from the seat of the chaise where it had laid for the past hour, wary to step any closer just yet.

“Will I be seeing you again next week?” Hannibal said. 

He circled his desk to sit on the edge. His fingers tapped along the underside of the ridge, unhappy with how far he was from Will and Will from him, but unwilling to close the distance just yet. Wondered when he had started to fidget. The oddness Will inspired in him, even the smaller moments, was thrilling.

“You know you will. I think if I opened up your planner I would see my name on every week of your calendar. Even during the ones where I was locked away.” Will said. He smiled at Hannibal, full of cruel humor of his past and the future he was carving out for himself. 

Will pulled a thin brown package out of his bag, ran his thumb and forefinger along the readymade seal of it, thoughtful. He gestured at Hannibal with it and then pressed it to his own chest.

Will came closer. Hannibal didn’t move. The room became smaller with every one of Will’s carefully measured steps. He stopped hardly five feet away.

“How’s Alana?” Will said.

“Worried about you and confused about our continuing friendship.”

“You’re still seeing her?”

“She’s a dear friend. As are you.”

Will laughed. 

“I wonder.” He said and pressed the package’s edge to his chin drawing Hannibal’s eye to it. “Did you have sex with your  _dear friend_ to manipulate her onto your side or did you want to make me jealous? Maybe both? Probably both. I don’t want you to answer, Doctor Lecter.”

“You’re angry and want a reaction from me.”

Will grit his teeth. “Not quite.”

“Then I wonder why you ask.”

“Because I know why. I know a lot of ‘why’s, don’t I, Doctor Lecter?” Will said. 

Will leaned over Hannibal then. Hannibal could see the grain of his beard and the browns that crowned around his pupil as it shifted to blues and greens. Smell the starch of his shirt. The lemon soap he had used before coming here. The seven dogs he had petted goodbye.

He set the package on Hannibal’s desk, straightened it so it aligned with his journals. He did not move away just yet though. 

“It’s simple. When you hear me start my ignition, you can open it.” Will said. He patted the package. The moment stretched and Hannibal followed one of Will’s curls to the arch of his ear and to the delicate skin under his eye. His lashes were dark and thick.

“All right.”

“Also,” Will said and turned to him, eyes narrowed. “Don’t touch yourself and I’ll see you next week. Otherwise I’m giving you my notice of cancellation now.” 

Will left with one last heavy look that shined with known possibilities that Hannibal would share in soon. “Have a pleasant week, Doctor Lecter.”

 

—

 

Hannibal’s office had never been more silent. He had to consciously even his breaths as he strained his ears, listening for the sound of Will starting his station wagon. Counted how many steps it would take for Will to reach where he parked and knew, then, that Will was making him wait.

He didn’t look at the package until he heard the sound of Will’s engine and when he finally did he stood and circled his desk. Picking up the package with both hands. Noting how light it was. It was plain and unmarked. He sniffed it and smelled only the strong adhesive Will had used to seal it. Covering some other scent.

He used his letter opener to easily slice the package open. The smell was abrupt. Silver halide salts.

The photograph was black and white. Hannibal set the rest of the package back on his desk so he could hold the photograph with both hands, emotions and bodily reactions mixing in a confused cacophony that caused him to need to sit down, lightheaded and the beginnings of a flush overtaking him as he looked over every inch of the photograph.

There in black and white, in stark lighting that made his skin glow against the contrasting shadows was Will Graham nude except for the white lacy panties that hugged around his hips and tight white stockings stretched across his muscular thighs. He had angled himself to the side showing only the curve of his backside, his hand and arm—masculine with veins popping and well worn muscles thick with hair—covering his front in a gentle reminiscent curve upwards.

His face was cut off, only his mouth was visible, curved in a smile that showed the beginnings of his canine. A snarl almost. Hair delicately fell around the nape of his neck. He had taken this before he had gotten his hair trimmed. Right after his release.

Hannibal pressed the heel of his hand against his erection for a brief moment before he pulled away. Instead he set the photograph on the center of his desk and gripped the arms of his chair, ignoring his arousal in favor of looking at the slimness of Will’s ankles covered in nylon and the dark hair hiding only slightly underneath that would be soft and wet easily with a single lick of his tongue and made his way up and up and up to that peek of pale skin in between delicate patterned lace.

It was well into the night when Hannibal looked away from the photograph and noticed there was more inside of the package.

He pulled out a clear plastic bag. The lace had the same pattern as in the photograph. It was a light blue, not white. He inhaled sharply, dropping the packaging on the floor to carefully open the bag.

Hannibal closed his eyes at the scent that wafted up and pressed his nose inside, breathing in until his lungs were so full he could not take in anymore. The muskiness that belonged to the heat between Will’s legs. The saltiness of his arousal. 

Hannibal gingerly pulled it out of its bag and unfolded it on the palm of one hand, lingering for a moment to simply look—it was as soft as he had thought, Will’s preference for comfortable fabrics extending even here, imagining Will setting up a tripod, Will with the chemicals and a spare room with blacked out windows preparing to do this himself in a way he knew Hannibal would appreciate, Will nude and balancing on one leg as he stepped into the underwear, the lace expanding and being pulled up by Will’s calloused hands—Hannibal could not deny himself any longer and he pressed his nose directly against and into the very part that had held Will where Will had not let him see in the photograph. 

Hannibal’s eyes slipped closed. He groaned loudly and licked part of the panties into his mouth where it soaked on his tongue and he could taste Will. The anger. The want. The wickedness of him that planned to and did this to Hannibal.

“Wonderful.” Hannibal said. He kept Will pressed under his nose and looked at the photograph. He gripped his thigh with his other hand, his joints creaking happily and his fingertips gone white.

Hannibal’s week would be more than simply pleasant. It would be torturous. _Wonderful_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will continues to be a tease. Hannibal is even more delighted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of me trying to write more often, so updates will be under the 'lackadaisical' kind of timeframe.
> 
> Tags will be added as we go along.

That night Hannibal came home to Alana dozing on the sofa in his den, the fireplace having died down to only a few bright embers. They had no plans set for the night. He supposed spontaneous visits were a part of what a relationship and not an affair entailed. 

He thought then of Will, months ago, coming into his home without even a call or a knock. Only the rumblings of an engine on a quiet night and the thud of his front door being closed alerting him. There had been warmth in his chest then. 

Now, Hannibal’s focus was not on Alana and her attempt at being the caring girlfriend, but on Will throwing his jacket where he pleased and treating Hannibal’s home as his own. 

He woke Alana. They chatted lightly about there day. He smelled gunpowder on her.

“Everything all right?” said Alana. 

She had her arms around him. She was too slim. Too light. Too kind. Feminine in every way when all of Hannibal yearned for the thick, lean well worked muscles of Will. 

Hannibal had spent the entire night and the drive home pent up with the peculiar urge to grab and fuck and unwilling to lay a hand on himself and break his word. The scent of Will’s arousal, days old but still so remarkably strong, stayed firmly on his tongue. The curve of Will’s muscular legs, the cut of his hip bone, and the insinuating sharp edge of his teeth as he smiled at Hannibal through the lens, left him wanting more than he had ever wanted. 

“An emergency call. Nothing alarming, though.” Hannibal said, not so much to soothe the worried look she gave him, but to evade any questions. Alana didn’t ask if the call was from Will and Hannibal would not be the first to mention him tonight.

In moments, Hannibal would carry her up the stairs to his bedroom. He would undress her kindly and she would undress him. She would laugh and look curiously up at him and his hurried state. 

Hannibal would turn the lights off and bend her over the edge of his bed, tugging her panties to the side—red and not at all like the light, angelic blue Will had worn—needing to imagine her lace as Will’s and her dark hair as Will’s and her rounded backside as Will’s and her moans as Will’s and the heat inside of her that clenched around him as Will’s.

He fucked her with his eyes closed. Fisted her hair, before letting go, longing for it to be shorter and annoyed she had almost ruined his imaginings. 

He came inside her with Will’s snarl in his eye and the growl he knew was growing in Will’s chest and would accompany such a look low in his ear.

Hannibal was still hard. He fucked her again.

 

—

 

The weekend was an interesting new experience of intense impatience for the days to move faster that took over Hannibal bodily, causing a stringent irritation at everyone who was not Will Graham to grow inside. 

He wished to go back to his office and even more he wanted to drive to Wolf Trap and see Will. 

But there was the charity event to attend at Mrs. Komeda’s home and Alana who sought his attention with more fervency than he recalled her ever having towards him. There had been no time to slip away without curiosity being aimed at him.

The week ticked by even slower. 

Every day Hannibal would arrive at his office an hour earlier than he needed to. The photograph and panties resealed in its bag, were locked away in the top drawer of his desk. He would not open it then, knowing that it would be too great a risk and would leave him unfocused for his patients. 

But he would unlock the drawer and look at the brown package. Not touching it yet. The sight of it, knowing it was there and real and that Will had done this and given this gift to him, was enough for Hannibal.

He was careful to not arouse Alana’s suspicions he would limit his time after his patients. Giving himself two hours to breathe in the fading scent of Will, to let the warmth of arousal take over him entirely until even his toes were flushed hotly in his shoes. 

He placed the photo on his desk. Will’s panties were gently laid out on his lap and then, once he’d traced the gentle ornamental lace, he would bring them to his nose and envelope his mind in Will’s heady scent.

He would draw Will then. Pages and pages of sketches, some more fleshed out than others, of the gentle curve of Will’s body, the harmonious contrast of delicate femininity of the lace stretched and molding over his hard musculature that was wonderfully masculine.

When he returned home, he would take Alana. She would be surprised by the sudden increase in his sex drive. His urge to rut had never been an  _urge_ , merely something he would take part in when offered, but hardly ever sought after. But Will haunted him, igniting Hannibal’s blood in ways he had not known were possible of him. 

 

—

 

Will’s appointments had from the start always been a part of Hannibal’s evening he looked forward to more as he grew to know him. And those months apart, with Will no longer able to be with him, had been a hell unfamiliar and distasteful to Hannibal. Loneliness was not a new feeling, but it had never had the strength it did those weeks without Will’s companionship.

Will was once again primped neatly. He folded his jacket this time before laying it on the chaise. He held himself with the utmost control and precision, his smile was small and yet it pierced through Hannibal with surety.

Will meandered around Hannibal’s office. Stopping here and there to examine a book by flicking through its pages or picking up an irreplaceable artifact with little care if it would fall and shatter.

 _A new look for a new beginning_ , Hannibal thought as he trailed after him. 

“Where did you put it?” Will said. He looked over his shoulder, not bothering to grace Hannibal with his complete attention before turning back to the ebony carved flute. 

“It?” Hannibal said. 

Will looked him up and down, gaze a thick wave of heat. The serene air he held around him dissipated to show displeasure. 

“You didn’t follow what I said, did you?”

Hannibal said nothing, merely raising a brow to prompt Will to go on. 

Will went to sit at Hannibal’s desk. He clasped his hands over his middle, elbows propped up on the arms, and stared at Hannibal.

“I saw Alana today.” 

“And how was she?”

“I don’t enjoy being crude when it comes to her.”

“You’ve never censored yourself with me before, why start now?” said Hannibal. He took a seat on the edge of his desk facing Will. The top drawer was still locked. 

Will didn’t speak for a moment. He frowned, looking to the left of Hannibal’s arm. “You put it in the desk.”

Hannibal nodded. “I did.”

“Don’t want to risk Alana seeing it at your house, which means she’s there often enough for you to worry and keep it locked away here.”

“She doesn’t visit my office often.”

“She doesn’t want to mix her professional life with her personal.” Will said, he rubbed his mouth as though he was covering a laugh. “I saw her at Quantico, a case consultation in Jack’s office. She’s wary of me now.” Will looked at him sharply then. “She looked satisfied.”

Hannibal smiled, entirely fond. “Are you trying to determine the state of our relationship?”

Will snorted and waved him off. “I’m aware of your relationship. And I’m aware you didn’t do what I asked you to do.”

“You’ll have to be specific.”

Will grinned and it was sharp and full of derision, reminiscent of the photographed snarl and this caused Hannibal to grow hot. He folded his hands in his lap as a concentrated effort to control himself.

But then the derision passed and Will was once again serene. Comfortable in his state of being, sitting at Hannibal’s desk in Hannibal’s chair.

“It’s my fault, though you are one for loopholes, Doctor Lecter.” Will shrugged then knocked on the desk three times. He thumbed at the lock on Hannibal’s desk. Every drawer had one, but Will knew instinctively which contained his gift. 

“We’ve never broached the subject of sexuality before last week,” said Hannibal.

“It didn’t seem important. I had more pressing things on my mind.”

“Do you feel inclined to discuss what we’ve evaded for so long now?”

“You have questions.”

“I wonder what it is you’re aiming to do.” 

“Guess.” 

 _To ruin me_ , Hannibal thought. He said, “Are you attracted to men, Will?”

“Am I attracted to you, you mean, Doctor Lecter.”

“I suppose.” Hannibal said.

Will didn’t answer. He thrummed his fingers on the desk and then reached for the smaller black moleskin on Hannibal’s desk. He pulled back the elastic band and flipped through its pages. 

The sketchbook was filled with quick drawings in pen and charcoal. Some of his home in Florence. Some of his patients, and, in particular, Will. 

The sketches of Will posed sensually in lace were locked away with the package. Hannibal wondered how Will would react to them and decided to leave them out next week.

Will paused on one sketch of himself. It had been drawn a month ago after one of Hannibal’s visits to the BSHCI. Will didn’t react beyond stopping to purposefully smudge one of Hannibal’s lines with his thumb. 

Will turned the pages until he found a blank one and wrote a long sequence of numbers, ripped the page out and folded it in half and then snapped the sketchbook closed. He did not give Hannibal the paper, holding it instead as an offering to be negotiated for.

“I want you to have sex with Alana as often as she wants you to and as much as you physically can until you can’t and, let me correct my mistake and be specific here, you don’t cum anymore, Doctor Lecter.” Will said, plainly looking at the note he held in his two fingers, tone bored in his explicitness. “Do whatever you have to do, but you don’t get to get off. With her or your own hand. Not at all. And on Saturday, you go here and when you find  _it_ , call me.”

“And what if I don’t follow your terms?”

“You will.”

Hannibal cocked his head. His curiosity peaked. Delighted with how blatant Will had become. 

Hannibal said, “And is  _it_  similar to what you gave me last week?”

“I thought you liked being surprised?”

“I can’t help to hope.”

Will smiled. “Bring a shovel. Dont wear any gloves. It’s cold and the ground gets awfully tough this time of year. I want you have the full experience.”

Will collected his jacket. He left the note on Hannibal’s desk with the unspoken command Hannibal would wait to look at it. Hannibal walked him to the door, holding it open for him.

Will paused and looked at Hannibal for a long moment. “You didn’t ask about the case.”

“Would you like to talk about it now?”

Will shook his head. A stray curl fell loose from the strict product Will had combed it into and swayed gently along his brow, causing him to look vulnerable. This accidental mark on the page changed him from the dangerous siren to someone who had been cracked open and could not close themselves back up.

“Have you had dinner yet, Will?”

Will shrugged his jacket on, buttoning it up slowly, then took his time pulling each of his well worn gloves on. He met Hannibal’s eyes with a softer look than Hannibal had expected. 

“Maybe another time.” He said and left.

Hannibal watched him drive off from the large window in his office, the curtain pulled back slightly, then turned to the folded note waiting for him on his desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://granpappy-winchester.tumblr.com)


End file.
